So That's What They Call a Family
by Rosebud5
Summary: Jack Kelly doesn't remember what a mother's love is like. He thinks he doesn't need it; he's doing just fine on his own. But when he gets seriously ill, Mrs. Jacobs insists she will care for him. Will he realize he needs motherly love after all? Two-shot.
1. Part One

Hey fellow Newsie fans! So I know I ought to be working on _Go Get 'Em, Cowboy_, but the Plot Bunnies DEMANDED this story. And when the Plot Bunnies demand, they usually receive. So here's a little two-shot that I felt needed to be written, and actually turned out to be one of my favorites I've written thus far:) Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Rosey may own this story, but she don't own Newsies!

~Rosey

* * *

><p><strong>So That's What They Call a Family<strong>

PART ONE

_November 1899_

The rain was bad.

It was cold and coming down in hard, fast slants. Jack Kelly and David Jacobs, and Dave's little brother Les made their way through the downpour, shivering in the cold wetness. They had sold all their papes and had been feeling pretty good about themselves, until the sky split open and the icy rain began to fall. Les and David had their good winter coats and mittens that their mother gave them, of course. But Jack had had to sell his coat a few months ago just to have enough money for some food, and now he was shivering hard, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. Oh, he knew it was stupid of him to sell his coat, especially when it was almost winter and he could get a warm meal at the Jacobs' any day, but he was stubborn, and didn't think ahead well.

"Jack, why don't you have your coat?" David just seemed to notice, raising an eyebrow. "You knew it was gonna rain."

"Shoot, Dave, you know me," Jack chuckled, trying to keep his jaw steady. "I don't do da tinkin' ahead ting. I left it back at the Lodging House."

"You're gonna get a cold, Cowboy!" Les worried, looking up at his hero anxiously.

"I'm fine, Les," Jack ruffled the kid's soaking wet hair. "Look, we're at your apartment already."

The trio stepped inside, shaking the water droplets from their hair and clothes. Still shivering slightly, they ascended the stairs to the Jacobs' apartment door. "We're home, Mama," Davey called as they walked inside.

Mrs. Jacobs appeared suddenly, her face full of motherly concern. "Oh you poor dears, you must be freezing. Come on inside." She dealt a kiss to Les and David's heads and gave Jack a swift hug as she led them inside the room and closed the door behind them. "Jack, why aren't you wearing your coat?" she asked in shock when she noticed the seventeen-year-old wasn't wearing a jacket. "You'll catch your death!"

"I left it back at the Lodging House," Jack lied again, suppressing another shiver.

"Why, you ought to have known better!" she scolded gently. "It was going to rain all-"

"Yes ma'am, I know," Jack laughed weakly. "Your son already gave me this speech."

Mrs. Jacobs laughed and nodded. "Of course he did. Well, Mr. Jacobs and Sarah are out of town-"

"Yes ma'am. Dave told me."

"Well then!" Mrs. Jacobs laughed, handing Jack a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "Looks like David has you all up to date on everything!"

"Like mother, like son," Davey chimed in with a smile.

Jack suddenly coughed into his sleeve, wincing after.

"Jack? Are you alright?" Mrs. Jacobs asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jack nodded emphatically, sniffing and shrugging it off. "Just got somethin' in my throat."

Mrs. Jacobs smiled and nodded, gesturing to the table. "Stay for dinner tonight, Jack. As a matter of fact, I'm not sending you back out there into the rain tonight. Go ahead and stay the night here."

Jack shook his head, sniffed again, and began to say he didn't want to impose, but a hard sneeze stopped him in the middle of his sentence.

Mrs. Jacobs bit her lip and went over to Jack, putting a hand on his forehead. "Hmm...You feel a little warm, Jack. Are you sure you feel alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack forced a smile and nodded. "I'm sure."

"Well you're staying the night here anyway," she insisted, gently pulling Jack to the table where Les and Davey were already sitting. Jack just nodded, afraid talking would cause him to cough again.

X-X-X-X

When Jack woke up, the first thing he was aware of was the brightness in the room. Why hadn't Kloppmann woken him up yet? And then he was aware of the pain in his throat and head and he groaned, remembering last night and sitting up too quickly, causing his aching head to spin so badly that black spots coated his vision. When his eyes focused again, he found himself on the couch in the Jacobs' apartment house, and nobody else was around. He got to his feet, his head spinning wildly, shakily making his way into the kitchen.

When he arrived there, he found Mrs. Jacobs stirring a large pot of soup. When he couldn't suppress a cough any longer, Mrs. Jacobs turned around and faced him with a gentle smile. "Good morning, Jack. How are you feeling?" she went over to him and touched his forehead, biting her lip. "You're much warmer..."

"Mrs. Jacobs, I gotta get to woik," he sniffed and rasped, surprised at how hoarse and dry his voice was.

"Jack, dear, you're sick. Being out in the rain last night gave you a bad cold. I'm not letting you go on your job when you're like this. I wouldn't let my children do it, and you're no exception," she said with gentle firmness.

Jack would have said something about not being her real son and about him not being able to miss work, but the way she said it... It was like he truly was her child. He hadn't felt motherly kindness in so long... It stunned him into silence long enough for Mrs. Jacobs to go over to him and lead him back to the couch. "Now Jack stay in bed. Rest is the best medicine."

"I can't stay in bed all day!" Jack protested, his scratchy throat causing his voice to crack.

"You'll just have to," she said with an air of finality. She pushed him softly back into the couch, covering him with the blanket. Jack flinched when she did so. This simple act of motherly love made him unsure of what to do or say, and he just remained still as Mrs. Jacobs left the room to get some soup and then returned with a steaming bowl. She held it out to him kindly. "Here. Eat all this good soup."

Jack took a spoonful and swallowed, wincing hard as it went down. "Hoits me throat," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said sympathetically. "But you have to eat something."

Jack took another painful spoonful before he handed it back out to her. "Sorry, it hoits too much." He wasn't sure why he was admitting this to her, but her motherly concern somehow made him feel able to admit the pain.

Mrs. Jacobs bit her lip and nodded, sitting the bowl aside. "Alright, dear. I'll save some for you for later."

Jack coughed hard before looking over at her. "Look, I really can't miss a day of woik."

"Yes you can," Mrs. Jacobs said firmly. "You're not invincible, dear. You're sick, and therefore you need rest and a day off."

Jack began to protest again, but a hoarse cough stopped him and he winced, reluctantly giving in. He _did _feel awful, though he would never admit it, and a day off actually sounded like absolute heaven.

Mrs. Jacobs held out a glass of water for him, smiling kindly, before getting to her feet. "Jack, I have to clean up a little around the house if you don't mind."

"Hey, go ahead," he shrugged, sniffing again. "I don't mind."

Mrs. Jacobs smiled sweetly, patting Jack's knee kindly before getting to her feet and going over to a basket in the corner. Jack leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes against his pounding headache. He was exhausted, despite having slept in unusually late that morning, and he felt himself already falling back asleep.

It was then Mrs. Jacobs started humming. Jack cracked his eyes open and looked over at her silently. She was dusting a shelf in the corner, humming an old tune quietly to herself. He knew the song. It was an old Irish lullaby his mother used to sing to him every night. _Toor-a-loor-a-loor-a… _Jack listened for a few more moments before whispering quietly "My muddah used ta sing dat all da time."

Mrs. Jacobs stopped and turned around to face him with a small smile. "It's a beautiful song. We're not Irish, but I sing it all the time just the same." She paused for a moment before smiling again. "Shall I sing it? Instead of just humming it?"

"If you wanna," Jack mumbled, sniffing and coughing again.

Mrs. Jacobs nodded, giving Jack a knowing grin, before she began to sing the song in a gentle voice. _"Toor-a-loor-a-loor-a…Toor-a-loor-a-lie…It's an Irish lullaby." _

Jack closed his eyes, letting the song play in his head. As he started to drift into sleep, Mrs. Jacobs' voice started to sound more and more like his mothers. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw his mother's loving Irish face, freckled and healthy, looking at him and singing the song gently to her son. He smiled slightly, and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>D'aww. I love Jacky Boy. I really really do.<p>

What do you think? Please tell me in a **REVIEW!**

Off to part two!

(Yes, all that DID rhyme!)

~Rosey


	2. Part Two

Hey y'all! It's Miley and stuff like that!

Wow...Too much SNL.

Anywho. Here's part two! Hope you're enjoying this!

~Rosey

* * *

><p><strong>So That's What They Call a Family<strong>

PART TWO

When Jack woke up, he found he was colder than he remembered, and his teeth were chattering. He raised a hand to his aching forehead and found a cold cloth there, and he blinked, confused.

"Jack!" Mrs. Jacobs was suddenly at his side, a smile on her face. "I'm glad you're finally awake. Your fever got worse. You had me worried there for a moment!"

Jack rose an eyebrow. He worried her? He didn't mean to worry her…But he had to admit, having someone worry about him felt pretty good. "I'm fine," he croaked.

Mrs. Jacobs removed the cloth from his forehead and placed the back of her hand there, biting her lip. "You're still running a fever. If it doesn't go down we might have to call for a doctor."

"A doctor?" Jack bolted up, which turned out to be a bad idea. He groaned, grabbing his head.

Mrs. Jacobs shushed him, gently pushing him back down. "It's alright, dear. I'm sure your fever will break soon and if it doesn't, doctors aren't so bad."

"Ain't never been to one in my life," Jack grumbled, crossing his arms. "And I ain't about to start now."

"You've never been to a doctor?" Mrs. Jacobs was shocked. "What about when you were younger? When your mother was alive?"

Jack fell silent, and Mrs. Jacobs regretted bringing up his mother's death instantly. She hurriedly changed the subject. "Do you think you could try some more soup?"

Jack's stomach rumbled in answer and he reddened, looking down. "Um, I guess I'm a little hungry."

Mrs. Jacobs laughed, good natured, hurrying to the kitchen and returning seconds later with some warm soup. Jack took the bowl and attempted to raise the spoon to his lips, but found his hand was so shaky he couldn't hold the silverware. Mrs. Jacobs gently took the bowl from his hands and dipped a small spoonful, holding it out to him. "Here."

Jack rose an eyebrow. "What? Ya gonna _feed_ me? Like I'm a baby or somethin'?"

"Jack," Mrs. Jacobs mumbled gently. "It's alright. And I won't tell anyone. Your reputation will still be safe," she added with a wink.

The seventeen-year-old looked at her skeptically for a moment before sniffing and sighing, giving in. "Okay. Fine. But if anyone finds out, I'm denyin' it evah happened."

"Alright," she smiled, holding the spoon to his lips. "Now eat up."

Jack swallowed the spoonful, wincing as it went down his raw throat. "Still hoits," he admitted weakly.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said sympathetically, holding out another spoonful. "But you have to eat something to get your strength back."

After the bowl was about half empty, Jack sneezed hard, coughed, and said he didn't want anymore right now, thank you. Mrs. Jacobs smiled and nodded, setting it aside. "You ate quite a bit. That should feel better, I'd think."

"Except for, ya know, da fire in me throat," he sniffed.

Mrs. Jacobs nodded in sympathy, reaching for a bottle of red liquid on the side table. "Here, have some of this. It's cold medicine. It'll make you feel much better."

"I'd rather not," Jack winced away from the spoon that was suddenly before his face. "It smells like Blink in da mornin'."

"If you want your fever to go down or your throat to stop hurting, you need to take some of this," she said firmly.

Jack sighed and gave in yet again, swallowing the foul liquid. He winced hard as it went down, and then looked over at Mrs. Jacobs through squinted eyes. "What, ya tryin' ta kill me or somethin'?"

Mrs. Jacobs just laughed softly, setting the spoon and medicine aside. "Just watch. You'll feel better before you know it."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but only managed a weak cough. He groaned, laying back into the pillows. "I hope you're right."

Mrs. Jacobs put her hand to his forehead again before putting the cloth back over his brow. "I'm going to go get a thermometer. I want to take your temperature."

"Huh?"

She turned around in surprise. "Haven't you ever had your temperature taken?"

"Uhh...Maybe. Wid my muddah. But I don't remember."

"Doesn't Mr. Kloppmann take you boys temperature when you're sick?"

"No."

Mrs. Jacobs shook her head, getting the thermometer out of the cabinet and going over to Jack. "I worry so much about you, Jack."

Jack was stunned again by these words as the thermometer was put in his mouth. As his temperature was being determined, he stay still, letting these words play in his head. She worried about him. Somebody actually worried about him.

Mrs. Jacobs broke him from his thoughts, removing the small glass stick from his mouth. She looked at it, worry on her face. "102.5 degrees," she mumbled. "Jack, why on Earth did you leave your coat at the Lodging House?"

Jack sighed, too tired to make up a story. "I didn't leave it back at da Lodging House. I sold it for money so I could eat."

"What?" Mrs. Jacobs exclaimed in shock. "Oh Jack, you know you can always come here for food!"

"But I don't want charity," he groaned, his high fever causing him to drop the tough-guy act for a moment.

"Jack, it's not charity. You know you're like a son to us."

"_Like _a son!" Jack rasped, his voice as loud as it could be in it's sore state. "But I ain't your real son. So it _is _charity! And I hate bein' a charity case!"

Mrs. Jacobs bit her lip, taking his hand in hers. "Jack, we all love you very, very much. And any time you are here it is NOT charity. It's like...A son returning home. We have never, ever thought of you as a charity case. So don't you go feeling like you are one."

Jack took a pause, thinking, breathing. "Mama-" he stopped, falling silent. Where did that come from? He didn't mean it... "I'm sorry."

"Jack." Mrs. Jacobs' voice was serious and gentle. "You can call me Mama whenever you want to. Everyone needs a mother figure in their lives. Even you. And I'd be honored if I could be that to you."

"Shoot," Jack mumbled, sniffing and coughing hard. "You know you already are dat to me. I'm just too stupid to admit it."

"You're not stupid, Jack," she smiled gently. "Stubborn, yes. But not stupid."

Jack paused, sniffing. "I don't need no legal guardian, ya know. Just...someone I can come ta if I need it."

Mrs. Jacobs beamed, nodding. "I'll always be that for you, Jack."

Jack sneezed and then grinned weakly, looking up at her tiredly. "Tank you. For everyting."

"Of course," she smiled, patting his hand sweetly. "Now Jack, as your mother figure, I must insist you eat more soup."

Jack looked up at her with a sheepish smile, his voice hoarse and tired. "Will you feed it to me?"

Mrs. Jacobs just grinned. "Of course."

* * *

><p>Well? What did you think? Good? Bad? Should never see the light of day? Whatever you think, please tell me in a<p>

**REVIEW!**

But flames will be used to smoke Pulitzer out of his big ol' fancy house.

~Rosey


End file.
